The Christmas Runaway
by R. L. Ravenclaw
Summary: Summary: The Dursleys are at a Christmas party, and nine year old Harry is alone after a savage beating. Seeing his chance, he packs a bag and runs.. but where to? Contains mention of child abuse. Rated T because I'm paranoid. ADOPTED BY R L RAVENCLAW. NO SLASH.
1. Chapter 1: Trouble with a Capital T

**The Christmas Runaway**

**Harry Potter fanfiction story started by dreamydaydreamer and then later adopted by R. L. Ravenclaw**

**Chapter 1: Trouble with a Capital T**

Harry Potter was in trouble.

Not that this was an unusual development. Far from it, in fact. In the eight years since Harry had been orphaned and sent to live with the Dursleys, Harry had spent far more time in trouble than out. He always imagined the word 'trouble' to have a capital T whenever it was used in relation to him, as it often was. He wouldn't have minded as much, if only he wasn't so clueless about what he was being punished for.

The day had gone on like any other with Harry rising at six a.m., dusting and polishing the house as he went, doing his morning chores until eight, when he would start breakfast for his aunt, uncle and cousin. A Dursley breakfast consisted of two packets of bacon, a pound of sausages, plus a few fried eggs. They had woken up, scoffed down the food, and then Dudley had gone to watch T.V, while Aunt Petunia went to spy on the neighbors and his Uncle Vernon to a business meeting at work. Harry had gone outside to shovel the snow, sweep the snow off of the second car, and do the rest of his chores. If he had finished by twelve, he would have been given lunch, but it had taken an extra twenty minutes, so he went hungry. He made lunch for Dudley and Petunia, watching them eat enviously. Dudley went out to play, but came running back in not long after, stamping snow all over the previously spotless floor. Aunt Petunia was horrified, though obviously not for the same reasons as Harry was.

"Duddy! Why aren't you wearing a coat? You'll catch your death of cold! You! Boy! Get my Dinky Diddydums some hot chocolate and biscuits, and mop this floor! I thought I told you to do it this morning!" Mutinously, Harry complied, wishing he was the one being offered refreshments. A fleeting thought of escape danced through his head, but was banished before he could even blink. He couldn't escape. He was stuck here for the next seven years, and that was it.

Then Uncle Vernon came home.

His business meeting had not gone well, and he was looking for a way to vent. As he always did, he took it out on Harry. First with his huge, meaty fists and then with his belt. An especially hard blow landed on Harry's nose, but he took it in silence, as always. This made his uncle even madder.

"You are a stupid, filthy, disgusting freak! You are only alive today because your aunt and I were kind enough to take you in when your useless, bloody drunken parents got themselves killed. We feed you, clothe you, put a roof over your miserable head and this is how you repay us! With your freakishness!"

He opened the door to the cupboard under the stairs where Harry lived and threw him in forcibly. He slammed and locked the door, then swaggered off to the kitchen to tell his family of his victory.

An hour later he came to the cupboard.

"We have been invited to a Christmas dinner party," he smirked, glaring at Harry through the grill of the cupboard. "Freaks aren't invited, so I'm afraid that you will be staying right where you are. Don't wait up for us!"

That had been hours ago. Harry was miserable. He was cold, tired, hungry, beaten and emotionally hurt. A little, persistent voice kept telling him that he didn't _need_ to be here, he should just wait for an ideal moment then leg it. It wouldn't shut up no matter how creative Harry was with distractions. He glared at the door, **willing**it to open with an intensity that surprised himself. He nearly fell backwards when, to his shock, it opened.

Astonished, but not one to pass up an opportunity, he scrambled out of the cupboard, and ran to the kitchen, desperately seeking nourishment. He needed something that would not be missed by the Dursleys. Inspired, he opened a packet of raisins and scarffed them down. He had not eaten for the past two days, owing to one fault of his or another. He closed his eyes in bliss as his stomach stopped complaining. He would have to be careful about where he stashed the package, but it was a risk worth taking.

That small voice in the back of his head had one last try.

_**I know... why don't you run away? No more cooking, no more cleaning, no more beatings...**_

Shocked by the boldness of the voice, he almost dropped the raisins.

_**I can't do that! I'd get caught, and then killed! Then raised from the dead and killed again!**_

_**So don't get caught, idiot!**_

_**Like that would work!**_

_**HOW COULD YOUR LIFE BE WORSE!**_

_**I...I...**_

_**Right. It couldn't.**_

_**But what if...**_

He continued like this for a while and then he reached a decision. He would go, and go now. If he knew one thing, it was that the Dursleys would not be happy at losing their odd-job boy.

He emptied his schoolbag, dumping the books in his cupboard, and packed it with a pillow, blanket and food. It would not last long, but Harry was used to going hungry. He felt a twinge of guilt as he stole the food and Dudley's smallest coat, which would fit three Harrys quite comfortably, but he quashed it. Guilt would get him nowhere. The voice cheered its approval. Grabbing the bag, he unlocked the front door, hesitated for just a moment, then stepped into the snowy night air.


	2. Chapter 2: Blimey!

**Chapter 2: Blimey!**

Harry examined Privet Drive for a pathway or some indication of where to **go**. _It's all very well running away_from_the Dursleys,_ he thought, _but that means I have to find somewhere to run_to.

Choosing a random direction, he broke into a run along the snowy, lamp lit streets. Lit by lamps, but no Christmas lights. Residents of Little Whinging would never do something so "tacky". Harry's eyes searched the ground ahead of him. There was a forest about half a mile in that direction, he remembered. And just after the forest was a village where he could beg some shelter... His bruised nose stung with the cold. _Or maybe not_, he thought bitterly. _If I show up anywhere looking like this then I'll be forced to go to hospital and Dudley said once after he went that they amputated broken limbs then ate them for dinner._(We must remember that Harry was only nine, and had never been to hospital, whereas Dudley made frequent trips to ensure that he didn't get even a little bit ill.)

_And even if they don't chop me to pieces, they'll call the police and make me go back. I_won't_go back there!_

But with the lack of a better plan, he set off for the forest. Tramping through slushy, ankle deep snow, his feet were frozen, but he didn't care. He was finally free.  
It took him around an hour to get there in the snow, but he arrived in the forest flushed with victory. When his jubilation faded, he cast around hopefully for a shelter. He searched everywhere he could see, but with midnight approaching it was dark and getting cold. Defeated, he slumped against the trunk of a tree. His eyes prickled hotly and his throat was dry. He was cold all over, and his nose was in agony. The only positive side he could think of was that the cold meant he could no longer feel his many cuts and bruises. Harry was getting desperate. Slowly, a heat began spreading against his back. He didn't notice at first, but the heat built and built until it filled his entire body. Startled and confused, he spun around to see the tree glowing. A disbelieving snort escaped his lips, remembering too late that noises like that agitated his nose. _I'm hallucinating,_ he thought. _No way can that be real._Yet when he touched the trunk and examined it closely, he saw a hole in it that he had failed to notice before. Peering through it, he could see that the tree was completely hollow. The hole was small, but Harry was small and skinny for a nine year old, and he could often pass for seven. He threw his rucksack in, then clambered through himself.

It was a large tree, and it was as wide as his cupboard. It was warm, and his rucksack made a half decent pillow. Slowly, with the snow falling outside, he fell asleep.

He awoke the next morning feeling refreshed. His nose still ached, but he was warm, dry, and well rested. He was reaching for his bag to retrieve a snack when he heard voices right outside his tree. Instinctively he held his breath.

"-can't understand it, that can't be right. The wand-" Harry thought he must have misheard that part. "- points right at this tree." Harry's blood ran cold. They had found him! They would make him go back to the Dursleys and they would kill him for running away and stealing. He couldn't suppress a sob, then froze in horror.  
A female second voice sounded acidly after a beat of silence. "Ash. Is it possible, that during and despite your "thorough" search of the area, it didn't occur to you to check _inside the tree?_"

The first voice-Ash- fidgeted and protested. "Blimey, Minerva! He's just a boy! Underage, untrained, there is no way he could have gotten in there!"

The female voice -Minerva- sighed. "Well, there's one way to find out. _Specialis Revelio!"_

They both gasped as the hole appeared. A male face poked through.

"Blimey! He's in there! Help me blast the tree open!"

"YOU WILL DO NO SUCH THING! You could blow the boy up!"

Harry stood up, shaking. He felt claustrophobic. A powerful need to get away from the people consumed him. He suddenly felt as if he was being pulled through a very narrow tube. His lungs constricted and the man looked on in shock.  
"Blimey! He's appar-" Harry didn't hear the rest, didn't have time to worry about the strange people and how they had found him, as he had suddenly and inexplicably found himself in the Welsh countryside.


	3. Chapter 3: Llanchetlon

**Chapter 3: Llanchetlon**

Harry was utterly baffled. Had he hit his head when he had been beaten? That was the only explanation for the bizarre events of the last few days. There was no feasible way that he could be sitting in a field when he had only two minutes ago been asleep in a hollow tree in a forest. Put that way, the latter part also sounded crazy. He must be dreaming. Harry sighed. It had been a good dream until the strange people had arrived. Normally he had nightmares; of his cousin; or Uncle Vernon; or the recurring nightmare he had which he suspected was of the day his parents died. All he would dream was a flash of green light, and a blinding pain on his forehead, which he supposed must be where he hit his head in the car crash.

He sat up cautiously, examining his surroundings. It was strange. He recognized his surroundings vaguely from a postcard he had seen from his Aunt Marge. She had been to a national dog show in Wales once, and written with gifts for the Dursleys and a burst ball for a six year old Harry. He shrugged inwardly, wincing at the pain it brought to his bruises. Spending the night in a tree had not helped, but he had been warm. He scanned himself mentally. His back hurt, and his nose still ached, but other than that, he was fine. He was pleased to see that he still had his bag with him. He riffled through it in search of food. Finding a packet of crisps, he walked towards the edge of the snow-covered field. He could see a narrow road winding alongside it, dotted with a cluster of cottages here and there. He would have to trick someone into telling him where he was, even if it was only a dream. He wanted some proof that the last two days had happened.

At the first house he passed, a woman was adjusting her Christmas lights outside the cottage. They were very pretty. Aunt Petunia had never allowed Christmas lights at Privet Drive; she said that they were common and nasty. He finished his breakfast quickly, then made up his mind. He had always been told never to talk to strangers, but he needed information. He gathered his nerve and approached her.  
"Excuse me miss? Could you help me please?"

The woman jumped and almost lost her balance on the stepladder she was standing on. She quickly recovered her composure and smiled at him.

"Hello? What's your name, dear?"

"James," he lied quickly. "I'm travelling with my dad and he's got us lost. I left him back there-" he gestured vaguely. "-so I could find out where we are."

The woman beamed. "Why, of course. You're in Llanchetlon, which is a few miles from- why, my dear, what happened to your nose?"

_Damn._Harry had forgotten all about that.

"I tripped over a stone a few days ago. We were on our way to visit my granny when we got lost. I guess I'll be going them; thank you for your help."

He smiled at her and then he turned to leave. The woman's voice called out after him.

"Where does your granny live then? I'll get you a map."

_Why_did this woman have to be so nice? It really wasn't helpful right now. All Harry wanted was to be somewhere no one could find

He brushed his hair out of his eyes and tried frantically to think of a place in Wales near Llanchetlon, but as he glanced up, the woman's eyes were riveted to the thin lightning shaped scar on Harry's forehead. With an effort to be casual, she said, "Where did you say you'd left your dad?"  
Harry couldn't answer. He wanted to run but was rooted to the spot. The woman suddenly shrieked, "PAUL! Get out here quick!"

A balding man rushed out of the cottage.

"Maria! What's wrong?"

Maria pointed at Harry. "That's Harry Potter! He was on the news a minute ago, he ran away from home! Dumbledore's been going frantic!"

Paul turned to Harry, who paled, briefly wondered who Dumbledore was, then started running. He didn't know where he was running to, but he made only a few meters before Paul tackled him. They hit the snowy ground hard, rolling over and over until Paul was holding Harry to the ground. Harry struggled and screamed and kicked and yelled, until Maria pulled a long thin piece of wood out of her pocket.  
Her voice was kind and reasonable, but firm.

"Harry, I would really rather not hurt an eight year old boy, but you have to calm down."

"I'm nine!" yelled Harry in between screams. At the present moment he, at least, felt it necessary to point that out. He tried to push Paul over, but Paul just tightened his grip, unknowingly squeezing a highly bruised area of Harry's shoulder. He howled in pain and desperation.  
Maria raised the stick. Harry cowered behind Paul but she didn't hit him with it. Instead, she shouted, "Stupefy!" A flash of light blossomed out of her stick which caused Harry to fall into the blackness of unconsciousness.


	4. Chapter 4: The Little Village

**Chapter 4: The Little Village**

**Author's notes: Alright, this chapter and the ones following it are of my own work. I hope I do dreamydaydreamer's original chapters justice.**

Slowly, but surely the fogginess of unconsciousness began to fade from Harry's mind. As he became aware of his surroundings, Harry realized that he was on a soft bed in the middle of a small, but cozy room with off-white walls and a wooden floor. Finally, the last few memories of what happened earlier came back to him. _"Oh rats, I gotta get out of here."_ Harry thought as he scrambled to get out of the quilt that had been tucked around him. Luckily his bag was sitting at the end of the bed and with a quick look inside of it, he found all his belongings as well as the small bit of food he had left. Quickly, he shrugged his bag onto his shoulders, but the straps rubbed up hard against his bruises as he did so. Harry bit down on his lip to keep himself from crying out in pain, knowing that silence was key to escaping this mess.

Wanting to avoid creaky steps in the wood, Harry softly crept towards the door. He then placed his ear against it to hear if his 'captors' were not far off. "He just came up to me out of nowhere, sir. Poor child looked positively chilled to the bone." He heard the woman…Maria say. It sounded as if they were just done the hall.

"Of course he did. He'd been out there all night. Surprised he still living." The man who tackled him said.

"Thank you for your assistance. Now if you could just show me where the boy is…." Said a male voice Harry didn't recognize.

Harry's eyes widened at those words. Not caring about how much noise he made, Harry ran towards the small window that was above the bed. With a hard pull, the window opened with a loud creak. The child couldn't help but look over his shoulder as he climbed out the window, hoping the adults were still busy talking. After getting his whole body outside the window, Harry let go of windowsill and dropped down to the ground. It wasn't a far drop, but it was enough to hurt a boy who was malnourished and bruised.

The child hardly took a second to get back to his feet before rushing off towards a forest behind the cottage. He ran and ran and ran for what felt like an eternity, but was really only about thirty minutes. Harry finally stopped to lean against a tree to catch his breath. His whole body ached with exhaustion and he had to fight to stay awake. He was so tired from his lack of food and water, but he knew he had to keep going. So as quickly as he could, Harry grabbed an apple from his bag and nibbled on it as he started trudging through the snow.

After a while, the boy came across a half-frozen river. Harry dropped to his knees and even though the water was absolutely freezing, he kept dunking his hands in it to get as many handfuls of water as he possibly could. The water felt so good going down his parched throat. With a satisfied sigh, Harry leaned back against a tree to rest for just a few short minutes. _"Where should I go now?" _he thought as he looked around at the forest, _"I guess I'll just start walking upstream. Maybe I'll find another village." _And so after another few minutes of resting, Harry got up and headed upstream.

He trudged through the snow, stopping every now and then to rest or eat a light lunch. At sunset, he came across another village. This one however seemed like it was more…old fashioned. Some of it almost looked a little…medieval. The houses and buildings were Tudor and looked as if they'd been there for a few hundred years. The market place was alive with people shopping for Christmas or just getting groceries. Harry looked around in wonder at all the lovely Christmas lights and decorations that twinkled on nearly every building on main street. It was all so…magical.

Unknowingly blowing his cover, Harry wondered out of the shadows and onto the main street. He'd never seen such beautiful things before. The shop windows were full of shiny trinkets and trimmings. Children were running up and down the streets throwing snowballs at each other. People of all shapes and sizes were carrying huge stacks of wrapped packages. There was even a group of carolers heading up the streets towards what Harry thought were houses.

The boy followed the carolers towards the homes of the villagers. He didn't know why and part of him worried if he'd be caught again, but something told him to go. So he followed them, keeping a few feet away so they wouldn't start asking him questions. Eventually as the last few beams of sunlight vanished, the carolers began to disburse and soon Harry was once again left on his own. It was getting even colder as the sky grew darker. _"Oh, but where can I go?" _the boy asked himself as he wandered down the streets.

When he reached the end of the last line of houses, he came across a run-down shack that might have once been as cozy as the cottages next to it. Part of the second floor looked as if it had been blasted away in some sort of explosion, but the lower half still looked as if it could be used as a makeshift shelter for a little while. So cautiously the young boy shifted his way through the weeds and rocks surrounding the house and pushed open the old door that was barely attached to the hinges. It slowly opened with a loud squeak. Harry crept inside the foyer and found stairs that had been shattered to bits. Apparently it had happened some time ago if the layer of dust was anything to go by.

The child walked through an archway to the left and saw what was once a parlor. An old fireplace was against the western wall. Two comfortable-looking red couches sat around it and a matching armchair sat in a corner next to a tail antique lamp. The room was indeed rather drafty, but the ceiling above was still intact so Harry crawled up onto the longer couch and pulled the blanket and pillow out of his bag. After making himself comfortable, the little boy's eyes grew heavy and soon he fell into a comfortable sleep.

**Author's notes: I know it's somewhat short, but I wanted to see how well this liked and if I'm capable of finishing this story well.**

**Reviews would be lovely and extremely encouraging.**


	5. Chapter 5: Strange Coincidence

**Chapter 5: Strange Coincidence**

The young boy didn't open his eyes again until the sun was well into the winter sky. At first, Harry thought he'd fallen asleep on his aunt's couch which would've been strange seeing as he was never allowed to even sit on it let alone fall asleep on it, but when he felt a cold draft come for the open doorway, he remembered the events of the past few days. After rubbing his eyes free of sleep, Harry put his glasses on and looked around at the old, abandon living room he'd spent the night in. Now that there was sunlight shining into the room, the boy could see more of the room's details such as the broken picture frames that were scattered around the floor and the dusty, old bookshelf in the corner.

Slowly, Harry slipped out from under his blanket and made his way towards the book shelf to look at the titles. He had even touched a single book since school let out for the Christmas holidays. During the many days and nights stuck in the cupboard, books had been his only companion. From the picture books Harry had 'borrowed' from Dudley's second room (not that he ever read them), to the second-hand school books he had had in his worn-out book bag.

Gently, the nine year old pulled one of the thinner books off the bottom shelf. It was worn from being exposed to the elements, but still readable. So the boy opened up the old, fragile pages and read the title. "The Tales of Beadle the Bard" Harry said aloud as he flipped through the book. Soon the boy lost himself in its pages. This old stories were filled to the brim with magic. His aunt and uncle had refused to have any sort of magical fairytale books in their house. Any mention of the word "magic" was forbidden and was punishable by a week spent in the cupboard.

Before Harry knew it, he'd finished reading nearly the whole book. He only stopped because his stomach gave a loud growl. So with a sigh, the boy set down the book and wandered back over to the couch to grab his backpack. After digging instead of it for a minute or two, Harry found that the only food he had left in his little bag was a single, red apple. He thought about saving it for later and just going hungry, but his stomach had other ideas. The poor child couldn't help himself and took a large bite from the apple, juice dripping down his chin and onto his ratty jacket. Harry tried so hard to eat slowly and saver each bite, but he was just so hungry.

After nearly eating the core, the child sighed with sadness. What was he to do now? _"Well, teacher always said that people gave food to the poor around Christmas…so maybe someone in the village would be willing to give me some food." _But Harry also knew that if he wasn't careful, he would be shipped right back to the Dursleys. So with a small smile on his face, the boy left the run-down cottage with his backpack securely strapped onto his back. Once again, he was able to enjoy the decorations and lovely music that was coming from the stores. The small market was filled with people just like it was the night before. Young couples held each other's hands and browsed around main street while little children played in the snow. A small part of him so wanted to run and join the other children in their game, but Harry knew he didn't belong. He was an orphan, a beggar who was lucky to have a simple meal or a shelter for the night.

It was then that the scent of baked goods filled his nose. The boy turned to his right and saw a small bakery. A woman in her fifties with curly brown hair that was graying and a motherly smile had just put a fresh batch of sweet rolls in the window display. Following his nose, the child wandered into the shop and marveled at all the wonderful treats that filled the whole building with sweet scents. The woman in the window smiled at him as he came inside. "Hello, little one. Have you been playing in the snow?" she asked in a Scottish accent. Harry nodded, knowing it was best to behave like a normal child so she wouldn't become suspicious. "Well, you looked positively chilled to the bone. Would you like to have seat?" she said as she pointed to a table near the fireplace.

"Thank you, ma'am." He said as he sat down in the cushioned chair.

The baker knew the little boy wasn't from around here and with the state of his clothes she was almost sure he was a runaway, but anyone would be a fool if they didn't see that the boy had been mistreated by his former guardians. He was far too skinny to be healthy and his clothes were four sizes too big and to top it all off, she saw a bruise on his pale, little cheek. _"Such an adorable child. Why would anyone want to mistreat him? He seems so polite and well-mannered unlike so many children in this village." _A part of her wanted to scoop the boy up in her arms and just shower him with all the love she could give. Another part of her knew she needed to contact the authorities and find this child a home, but she just couldn't. For what would happen if they sent such a sweet, innocent child back to his old home. Surely he would be punished for running away and if his bruises were anything to go by he would be lucky to walk away from it in good health. No, she wasn't going to be telling anyone…for the time being. For now, she would just treat the poor boy with kindness and give him as much attention as she could without it being too strange or suspicious.

So she smiled brightly at the child, showing him that she meant him no harm and asked "May I offer you a cup of hot chocolate, dearie? It'll warm you up far quicker."

Harry subtly looked around, wondering if someone was going to jump out any minute and grab him to take him back to the Dursleys the minute he opened his mouth, but when he saw no one, he looked back up to the nice baker and replied, "But I have no money, ma'am."

"Oh, that's not a problem child. I was just about to have a cup myself and you look like you could use a good warm cup of hot chocolate." She responded, waving off his concerns about money. This child needed all the warmth he could get and the baker knew that she couldn't just overwhelm him with attention. That would just scare him away just like a skittish puppy.

"Thank you, ma'am." Harry said softly as the baker headed towards the kitchen. The kind woman just responded with a gentle smile and walked through the doorway. Another loud growl erupted from his stomach and since he was the only one in the room, it sounded so loud Harry almost thought his stomach had turned into a monster. _"The pain will go away eventually. At least the hot chocolate will help." _

But what Harry didn't know was that the baker was loading up a plate with some fresh scones. She just couldn't let that poor child go hungry. Yes, she had to be very gentle with him so that he wouldn't be scared off, but the idea of letting a sweet well-mannered boy like that go hungry was unbearable. It looked as if he had been through enough already. Maybe if he kept coming back to her shop, she could get to know him some more and hopefully find someone to take care of him. If she found a willing person herself, there was a good chance she could cut down on the authorities' involvement in this child's life. She was certain that if she just contacted them now they would send the poor child right back to his family. _"Well, that will most certainly not happen on my watch." _She thought as she headed back into the main area of the bakery.

Harry's eyes widened when he saw the plate of scones the baker was carrying on a tray along with two steaming cups of hot chocolate. "Here we are, love, a nice cup of hot chocolate to chase away the cold along with a soft scone." She said as she placed the tray on the table.

"But ma'am, I don't have any…" Harry tried to say, but the baker quickly interrupted him.

"Enough of that lad. I haven't had my own breakfast and it is just rude to eat in front of a guest without offering them something to eat as well. So please, child, have something to eat. They're fresh out of the oven and my own special recipe."

Harry hesitantly reached for a scone, but kept a close eye on her the whole time. The baker just smiled reassuringly the whole time. "Thank you, ma'am." He softly said before taking a small bite.

"Oh darling, call me Flossy." She said as she reached for a fresh scone. Harry had never heard of such a name before, but he didn't necessarily think it was weird. He'd just never come across anyone with such a different name.

After he finished his mug of hot chocolate and two scones (at Flossy's insistence), Harry decided that now would be a good time to explore the village some more. So he thanked Miss Flossy (as he insisted on calling her) and headed out the door of the bakery. Now that he was warmed up and full of sweets the day seemed so much brighter. Harry wondered if there were other people in the village who were just as nice as Miss Flossy. A part of him still worried that she would tell somebody that he was here and he would get sent back, but another part of him didn't think she was going to do that. If she had been planning to contact the authorities to come and take him away, she would've let him leave the bakery. _"At least she doesn't know where I sleep." _Harry thought as he continued to walk down the street. He saw yet another group of kids playing in the snow. He quickly ducked down in the last minute when a snowball was flying his way.

"Hey you!" a boy about his age yelled at him, "You want to come join us? We need one more person on our team!"

Harry smiled brightly as he ran towards the group of boys and eagerly joined the snowball fight. He was so happy that for once he could join in the game without being beaten up by his cousin for talking to other children. Right at that moment the little boy truly believed that running away from the Dursleys had been the best decision he had ever made.

"Can't believe I let that old coot talk me into this." Severus Snape grumbled as he wondered the cold streets of Godric's hollow. There was a foot and a half of snow on the ground and the wind was blowing a cold breeze as the Potions Master continued his journey down the street.

Of all the requests Headmaster Dumbledore could've had, it just had to be this one. He just had to ask (more like manipulate) him into joining the search for the little savior of the Wizarding World, Harry Potter and when he tried to say no, he brought up the one thing he couldn't refuse. "He's Lily's son, Severus. You swore to protect him for her."

Severus sneered as he remembered that conversation. The old fool knew just how to manipulate him into looking for the son of the man who had made his life miserable all seven years he had been in school. "Arrogant little twerp probably ran away because he didn't get enough sweets." He growled as he continued to stomp through the snow.

Just before he turned the corner, he heard someone call out to him. "Young man!" a voice said. Since he was obviously the only other person on the street, Severus turned around and saw an old woman hobbling towards him. She was leaning heavily on a cane and the white hair she had left rested atop of her head in a loose bun. Her tired eyes held years of wisdom and her withered hands showed signs that they'd been put through years of hard work. Even though she was advanced in age, there was something eerily intimidating about her. Not that she could frighten him of course. He'd been one of the top duelers at Hogwarts and had to deal with many an enemy during Voldemort's reign so even if this woman possessed magic she could never do too much damage to him.

"Young man" she said as she finally caught up with him, "Are you the one Dumbledore sent?"

Severus raised an eyebrow, "And if I am?" he asked suspiciously.

The old woman just chuckled, "I already know you are. He described you and I remember seeing you that Halloween night." She replied.

Severus froze at her last few words. He'd prayed no one had seen him that night. That was his weakest moment. If word got around about where he had been that night, his former 'colleagues' would be sure to finish him and it certainly wouldn't be a pleasant end either.

"Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me." She said, "I'm Bathilda Bagshot, an old friend of the Headmaster."

Severus of course knew exactly who she was now that she'd mentioned her name. Bathilda Bagshot was the author of _A History of Magic_ and a well-known historian. Apparently she was also Dumbledore's eyes and ears of the Wizarding village of Godric's Hallow. "So since you tracked me down, I assume Dumbledore has informed you about my reasons for being here." He said.

"Indeed he has." She replied, "And you sent you just in time."

Severus raised an eyebrow at these words, "Did he now?"

"Yes" she said as she started walking further down the street. Severus followed her at a slow pace. Bathilda didn't say a word until they nearly reached the end of the street. "He was here." She said as she motioned to an abandoned, shack that had once been just as comfortable as the other cottages surrounding it.

Severus stood completely still in place as he looked upon the house where his once best friend had given up her life to save her only son. Of all the places the boy could've gone it just had to be the Potter's old cottage, the place where the little boy spent the first year of his life. _"There is no possible way the boy could've remembered this place. It has to be just a coincidence."_ He thought as he stood there unmoving as he looked at the barely intact roof that was now covered with snow. It was a wonder that it didn't collapse years ago.

Severus resisted the urge to roll his eyes. _"Of course only a Potter would be stupid enough to go into a house that was about one more snow storm from collapsing." _ He thought. "When was the boy here?"

"I saw him just this morning. He came out of the house at about 8:00 am. I wouldn't be surprised if he spent the whole night in there. Poor child had nowhere else to go." Bathilda replied.

"Oh he has a place to go; back to his relatives where he belongs." Severus sneered.

Bathilda sighed as she shook her head, "You may not be saying that when you actually see him." She said just before turning around to head back to her house. "I suggest you wait in my house next door till he comes back."

"How can you be sure he'll return here?" Severus asked.

"So long as no one in the village has scared him off, he'll be back. A part of him will always want to come back here whether he knows it or not." She replied as she opened the gate to her house and beckoned the young Potions Master to come inside. Severus sighed in frustration, but something told him that the old historian was right. Either way, sitting in a warm house was much better than wandering around in the snow, looking for that troublesome little brat.

**Author's notes: Well, I believe this is coming along rather nicely. The plot is thickening and will hopefully continue to flow with the original chapters. Thank you for all the wonderful reviews, story alerts, and favorites.**

**FYI, the name Flossy came from my great grandmother who once owned a bakery with my great grandfather.**


	6. Chapter 6: A Friend of the Mother

**Chapter 6: Friend of the Mother**

"_That was so much fun." _Harry thought as he waved goodbye to the boys who had asked him to play with them. It was definitely a rare treat to play with other kids because of his bully of a cousin. His ankle hurt quite a bit, but he was able to hide behind his team's fort and stay off his ankle for most of the time. So it was a little sad when the boys were called back into their houses for lunch. Harry just stood there watching them as each boy's parents hugged them tightly and ushered them into their warm houses. He couldn't help but feel a little jealous. Those kids had a warm place to stay, food on the table, and they weren't in pain from injuries that were caused by people that were supposed to care for you.

The good news was that Harry healed faster than most people. He figured it was because of his freakishness that Uncle Vernon always talked about. Usually when freaky things happened it meant that he would get a beating, but when his freakishness helped him get better, Harry was glad he had it. His nose felt a bit better and he could even breathe through it again. His other injuries still hurt, but the freakishness was helping with them too. _"At least now I won't have to worry about getting any new bruises or broken bones so once these are healed, I'll finally feel better for good." _This thought brought a small smile to the little boy's face. It was moments like that that reminded him why he ran away from the Dursley's. He may have been cold and hungry, but he was free. Even though he didn't know where his next meal was coming from, Harry knew that things were going to get better. It may have been a foolish hope, but it was still hope and it was all he had.

The young boy walked down Main Street one more time on his back to the abandoned cottage. He was tired from the snowball fight and wanted to rest for a little while before going to find some more food. Plus he wanted to see if there was anything else in the old cottage. It seemed so strangely…familiar and comforting. A part of him wondered if he had been there before. It was weird, but…nice. So the boy made his way up the street and back towards the old cottage.

When he got there, he walked down the hall passed the collapsing staircase. Right behind the stairs, he found a linen closet filled with old blankets and even a few trinkets. Most of the blankets and linens were eaten by moths, but there was one quilt on a shelf just above Harry's head. This quilt for some very odd reason didn't have a single hole in it nor was it faded or fraying at the ends.

A part of Harry knew that he shouldn't do it, but the boy just couldn't resist reaching for the quilt and pulling it down. A few old sheets fell down with it which caused a large cloud of dust to come down with them. Harry coughed and took of his glasses to clean them on his shirt. Once he was done, he picked up the quilt from where he dropped it on the floor. The quilt was covered with red and gold patches and was a good size. Sure it was dusty, but Harry fixed that with a quick shake.

He then wrapped the quilt around himself and felt a warm, comforting feeling on the inside. It was so soft and warm it chased the cold from the snow away and made the boy finally relax. Harry had never been so at ease in his life…well, at least for as long as he could remember. However, the comfort of the quilt reminded his body about his lack of energy from all the activity he did. So even though his stomach wished for some sustenance, Harry ignored it and lied down on the comfy red coach he had spent the previous night on and took a long afternoon nap. The child was completely unaware of the eyes that had been watching him from across the street ever since he returned to the abandoned cottage.

* * *

Severus watched in disbelief as the son of his arch nemesis crawled over the rubble of the Potters' old cottage. He couldn't believe the old witch (who had rumors floating around about her failing mental health) was completely right. Not only had the boy come back to his former home, but his body screamed neglect…and possibly abuse. Now here he was, climbing into an abandoned cottage that had its upstairs blown to kingdom come. The Potions Master shook his head in disbelief as he pulled away from the window and headed back towards the fireplace. Bathilda sat there watching him with a look in her eyes that clearly asked, 'Now you believe me?'

Severus sighed, "I'll go grab him." He muttered as he headed for the door.

"Careful" Bathilda said, "If he sees you coming, I guarantee you that he'll run." The younger man rolled his eyes, but stopped when she added, "The boy has been through enough already. Don't make it worse."

With a groan, Severus walked out the door and out into the snow. Quickly, he cast a Notice-Me-Not charm on himself before he crossed the street to enter the old house. When he stepped through the doorway, he felt the familiar stab of guilt and pain run through his heart. The spell damage to the walls reminded him of the horrid act of betrayal he had committed to his one and only childhood friend. The act of betrayal that now left said friend's only child a homeless orphan. Images of her dead body lying there with empty eyes flashed through his mind like a horror film.

Severus shook his head to clear it of the terrifying memories. He had a job to do. He had to get that boy…her boy, out of the cold and most likely to a mediwitch. So the potions master then made his way from the foyer into the living room. There he found a sight he did not expect to see. Instead of a shivering, miserable, little boy, Severus was shocked to find a child fast asleep with a small smile on his face and curled up under the exact same quilt Lily's mother had made for her just before her first year at Hogwarts. As soon as she had learned them, Lily had cast multiple preservation and warming charms on that quilt. She'd said she had wanted her child to have it during their Hogwarts years. Severus couldn't believe the boy had actually found the darn thing. It was probably thanks to those warming charms that the boy had actually survived in the cold weather.

With a sigh, he reached down and laid his hand on the boy's shoulder. The child was so exhausted he didn't even move an inch until Severus started to gently shake his shoulder. With a jerk, Harry's eyes then shot open and he sprang up into a sitting position, but before Harry could open his mouth to protest, Severus quickly began to explain. "I'm not here to hurt you, child."

"Then who are you and what do you want with me? Is this your house or are you with the police?" The boy asked as he subtly eyed the exit.

Severus knew he had to talk fast before the boy made a break for it so he said the one thing he knew he would regret saying later on. "Harry, I was a friend of your mother's so no I am not with the police and no, this is not my house. You're not in any trouble."

Harry's eyes widened in a mixture of surprise and wonder, "You knew my mother? What did she look like? Was she nice? Was she beautiful? Do I look like her?" he asked at a mile a minute.

A part of what was left of the potion master's heart burned with fury. The child didn't even know what his mother looked like? He knew Petunia could spiteful, but could she honestly be so heartless to not even show her own nephew a picture of his mother? _"Come to think of it, it does sound like something she would do. I certainly wouldn't put it past such a despicable, arrogant snob." _He thought. Clearly the boy needed to be told about not only the Wizarding world and his status in it, but apparently he also needed to be told about his parents. Petunia's parenting methods, or lack thereof, were becoming more unsatisfactory by the minute. "I will answer those questions at a later date, but at the moment, we must get out of the cold." Severus said.

Harry's eyes widened and he slowly began to move away from him, "I'm not going back to the Dursleys."

Severus groaned in frustration, "I never said you would. In fact, I highly doubt you'll ever see them again." He retorted. _"Especially if I have anything to say about it." _

The boy gave the man a wary look, "How do I know you're not lying? Adults lie a lot."

The potions master sneered at the child before him, "I despise liars and I swear not to lie to you…if you swear not to lie to me." He replied.

Harry looked the man right in the eye. He'd heard once that when someone was lying, they couldn't look you in the eye. Severus's cold, hard gaze never left the child's emerald eyes. The boy was still wary, but was willing to see if this man was actually telling the truth…especially if he could tell him things about his parents. "Alright, I swear not to lie to you if you don't lie to me." He said.

"Deal" Severus said.

So the boy stood up and grabbed his backpack, but then he stopped and looked at the lovely quilt that had felt so warm and comforting. The professor stopped as well and watched as the child ran his fingers across the perfect stitching. "You can keep that quilt, child." He said.

Harry gave the man a confused look, "But doesn't this belong to someone else?" It may have been an abandoned house, but it had to belong to somebody.

"No Mr. Potter, it belongs to you as does everything else in this house." He replied.

The boy looked shocked as he asked, "But how?"

Severus sighed, "This was your parents' house so after they…perished, everything was left to you. Therefore that is your quilt. Now quit dawdling and let's get out of this retched cold before we both get a bad case of the flu." He responded before walking back into the entry way.

Harry smiled as he picked up the quilt and rubbed it against his rosy cheek. _"This belonged to my parents. I wonder if mum made it herself." _He thought as carried his now most-prized possession into the entryway and out the front door (or what was left of it).

Severus could not believe the mess he had gotten into. Here he was escorting his worst enemies' child back to Hogwarts where he then had to make sure that he didn't end up back at his relatives house. Merlin only knows how much arguing with the headmaster he'd have to do to keep his word to the boy. The fact that he actually had to argue with the "Leader of the Light" about placing the boy with another family was ridiculous. It was quite clear that the child was NOT taken care of at all. Bruises covered his body, his nose looked like it had been broken, he was limping, and the state of his clothing was no better than a beggar's. But no, Albus just couldn't shut up about "blood wards" and the importance of family. Severus scoffed; a pack of wolves would've treated the child better than those people.

But first off, he had to explain magic to the boy before flooing into the headmaster's office from Bathilda's house so Severus led the child across the street and knocked on the old woman's door. She was of course practically waiting at the door the whole time so they didn't have to stand outside in the cold for very long.

"Hurry and come in. The sky's darkening and at this time of the year, that means a storm's surely on its way." She said as she ushered them into the warm sitting room, "I'll be right back with some tea." She muttered as she headed into her kitchen.

Harry looked around the old room with a look of confusion, "Sir, I thought you said we were going to an old school." He remarked.

Severus sighed as he sat down on an old, brown sofa in front of the fireplace, "First, there are a few things I need to explain to you after I ask you a few questions."

The boy nodded, "Alright"

"How much did your aunt and uncle tell you about your parents?" Severus knew Petunia probably hadn't said a thing about magic, but he hoped she at least had said something about the boy's parents.

Harry looked down at his feet and played with the fraying hem on his jacket as he replied, "They told me that my dad was a no-good drunk and that he got himself and my whore of a mother killed in a car accident."

Severus's eyes widened in horror. Who knew Petunia could be _that_ cruel?! He expected her to say nothing of magic, but to tell her own nephew such awful lies about his parents. That was the lowest of the low. _"Spiteful bitch." _He thought. "Once again, your aunt lied." He said, "Your father was not a drunk nor was your mother a whore and they did not die in a car crash. You're aunt however is a cold-hearted, spiteful woman who couldn't look past her own jealousy to properly care for her own nephew."

Harry was a little shocked to hear this. Never had an adult said such things about his aunt and uncle. They'd always sided with them and called _him _the liar. So to finally have someone agree with him about his relatives was an entirely new experience…one he'd hope would continue.

Severus watched the different emotions flash through the boy's eyes for a little while before he continued, "I went to school with both your parents, but your mother and I grew up in the same neighborhood so I had the misfortune of meeting your aunt. Even back then, she was a horrid pest who couldn't keep her nose out of other people's business."

Harry thought that that sounded about right. Aunt Petunia was always craning her abnormally long neck over the fence to eavesdrop on the neighbors or poking her head out the window so she could get a better view of what the people across the street were up to.

"As for your mother," Severus said, "she was the kindest person I'd ever met. She cared more about a person's feelings then their looks or where they came from." The potions master had a far-away look in his eyes as he said all this. Clearly, he was remembering better times such as those summer days he and Lily spent on the playground where they met.

Harry smiled as he listened to Severus' words. Never before had he heard such nice things said about his mother. All Aunt Petunia could ever say about her was that she was a no-good freak that left her brat on her sister's doorstep. "What did she look like?" he asked.

What was left of Severus' cold, hard heart cracked rather painfully at the child's question. The boy didn't even know what his mother_ looked_ like! He didn't remember her sunset red hair, her sweet, soft smile, or even her bell-like laughter. Yes, he was very young when he lost her, but the least that hateful, monster of a woman that dared call herself Lily's sister, could've done was tell Lily's child a small something about his mother. "Your mother was very beautiful woman." He replied, "She had red hair and green eyes."

The boy's eyes widened and a large smile spread across his face, "Like my eyes?"

Severus felt the corners of his mouth twitch. He almost wanted to smile at the sparkling green eyes that were shining up at him, but it had been nearly a decade since he had smiled. "Yes, you have your mother's eyes." It was almost painful looking down at those eyes. Oh, how he missed his best friend. She was the only person that ever truly knew him…at least before he'd made the biggest mistake of his life.

"What about my dad?" Harry asked the potions master. He had become rather quiet for a few minutes so Harry had wondered if he had forgotten about him.

The professor was snapped back to reality when the child asked that question. Severus knew it was coming, but he was certainly not looking forward to answering it. He certainly didn't have many nice things to say about the late James Potter, the tormentor of his teen hood. "I didn't know him very well." He replied.

"Do I look like him too?" the boy asked.

Severus clenched his teeth as he remembered the taunting face of his nemesis, but he knew that he couldn't let the child know his true opinion of his father. So he told the boy what nice things he could say about that arrogant bully that made his life hell. "Except for your eyes, you look exactly like him."

"Was he nice and not a drunk like Aunt Petunia said?" the child asked with a sadden look in his emerald eyes.

The potion master shook his head, "No, he wasn't a drunk. He cared for you and your mother very much." _"He even died for you both."_ He thought after he'd answered the boy.

Harry looked down at his feet and sat there quietly for a few minutes. Severus sensed that a much harder question was on its way, one that he was certainly not looking forward to answering at all…and sure enough, the next question was far worse than all the others. "If my parents didn't die in the car crash like my aunt said, then how did they die?"

Severus sighed as he thought of how he was going to handle the current situation. _"Best start from the beginning."_ He thought. So he began to tell the child about his true heritage.

**Author's notes: Well, that was longer than I thought it would be, but it was needed for the plot. Next chapter Harry will learn just what happened that awful Halloween night and then…well, I don't want to give away too much, but we will finally make it to Hogwarts. Reviews would be lovely and the ones I have been getting have been a real encouragement. Keep up the good work.**


	7. Chapter 7: Knowledge Overload

**Chapter 7: Knowledge Overload**

The fire crackled and danced as it heated up the old cottage in Godric's Hollow. The tea sat forgotten on the small table in front of the couch where one Potions Master gathered his thoughts as the little wizard beside him watched him with a questioning look on his face. Even though Severus had explained to the child the truth about his parents' deaths, there was still the crucial factor that severely affected each of their lives…magic.

Severus figured that once again it was best to start at the beginning. "Harry, has anything…strange ever happened when you were frightened or angry?" he asked.

The boy lowered his head in shame, "A few times. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia weren't very…happy when they happened." He said.

That burning fury inside the professor flared at the mention of the child's previous "guardians". Incidents of accidental magic were supposed to be celebrated, not punished. If the boy's parents had been alive, Potter would've thrown a huge party and bragged about the child's accomplishment for weeks while Lily would've been ecstatic and showered her child with affection and encouragement. Instead, Harry had been punished for something that made him special, something he could not control. Severus could easily guess what that horse-faced jealous hag did to the boy and it certainly wasn't pretty.

"Tell me of one of these instances." Said Severus.

Harry hesitated, but he'd already told this man so much and the potions professor had already sworn to make sure he would never go back to the Dursleys… "There was this one time…Dudley and his friends were chasing me. They were playing their favorite game, Harry Hunting."

Severus sneered. _"Hooligans, the lot of them. I'm sure." _He thought. "Go on, boy." He said.

Harry scuffed his feet against the old rug on the wooden floor. "Well…when they were getting too close, I turned a corner and found some dumpsters behind the school. I squeezed my eyes closed and jumped as high as I could, but instead of ending up behind the dumpsters, I was on the school roof!"

"_He apparated?!" _Severus thought. Sixteen year old wizards had trouble apparating and this child did it during his primary school years! The amount of power the boy had was astonishing...and completely untrained. Who knows what the boy was capable of? He didn't even know his own strength. Accidental magic reacts to anger…or fear. What if someone triggered his accidental magic to a dangerous degree? If Dursley had taken it too far, it could've triggered something drastic.

There was no possible way Albus could send the boy back now. Surely the old wizard would understand that. The boy needed more training to control his magic than what was taught at Hogwarts…and as the saying goes, it's best to start them young.

"And your uncle punished you for this?" the older wizard asked.

Harry nodded and he looked down at his hands. "I didn't mean to. I just didn't want to get beat up again." He replied.

"Which is understandable. You had every right to defend yourself." Severus added. Now he just had to take this slowly so as not to frighten or confuse the child. "How do you think you got onto the roof of the school?" the professor asked.

The boy shrugged, "I don't know. I guess it's because I'm a freak and can do freaky things." He replied.

Severus did his best to not show his anger towards that spiteful, uppity woman, but it was a difficult battle. Many times he had heard the word "freak" come from her mouth as well as his father's as he grew up and if he never heard it again, it would be too soon. "You are most certainly NOT a freak." He said sternly.

The boy looked up at the older wizard with a hurt look in his eyes, "Than why do I do freaky things? Why am I not normal?" Tears were welling up in his eyes as he asked these questions, "And why do my relatives hate me?"

Tears and emotional situations were not something Severus was familiar with so he was rather clueless when it came to comforting people…let alone children. Not knowing what else to do, he placed his hand upon the boys shoulder in what was supposed to be a comforting jester, but the child flinched under his touch. The potions master sadly understood the boy's reluctance to be touched. To Harry, being touched by an adult usually meant pain in some shape or form was in store for him.  
Severus wasn't sure how to respond to this. So he did what he thought was best. He told the boy the truth. "Again, you're not a freak. The reason these things happen is because you have magic."

"Magic?" Harry asked astonished at just the word itself.

"Yes, child. You're a wizard." Severus replied.

The boy shook his head no. "I can't be. I'm no…wizard. I'm just Harry the freak. Magic can't be real." He insisted.

Severus's face darkened at the child's words. "Enough. You. Are. Not. A. Freak. Forget what your relatives have told you. Magic is real and you have it. You are a wizard, Harry, and your parents were magical as well. It's your relatives that are the abnormal ones. They should not have treated you the way they did. It was wrong of them. Your aunt was jealous of your mother's powers growing up and apparently she's been taking it out on you. That was wrong of her and you will never be going back to that horrid cow again. Do you understand?"

Harry wiped a few tears from his eyes and starred up at Severus's face for a few minutes. "I'm really magic?" he softly asked, still sounding rather astonished that magic was real.

"Yes, child." Severus replied, "and you should be proud of it. In less than two years, you shall attend a school that will teach you how to use your magic."

"Really?" the boy asked, a spark of excitement shining in his emerald eyes.

"Yes, it's called Hogwarts. It's the same school your parents went to and it's also where I work as a professor." The potions master explained.

Harry looked up at him in wonder, "Wow, that's where you're taking me?" he asked.

"Yes, I must speak with the headmaster about changing your current living arrangements." When Harry gave him a look of confusion, Severus rolled his eyes and repeated that sentence in a way a child of nine years could understand it. "I need to speak with the headmaster about where you'll be living from now on."

Harry nodded in understanding as he grabbed a cookie from the plate on the coffee table. Severus looked towards the doorway that lead to the kitchen and saw Bathilda peaking around it. _"No doubt the nosy old woman's been doing her absolute best to pick up each and every word I've said to the child." _He thought as he stood up to grab his cloak. "We'd best be on our way. The sun has nearly set and I'm sure our hostess would like to get back to her usual routine." He said, sending Bathilda an annoyed look. The old woman just huffed as she walked into the room, leaning heavily on her walking stick.

"Don't forget to cast a warming charm on the boy. Those clothes of his aren't fit to keep a mutt warm let alone child." She grumbled.

The boy looked a little worriedly at the two adults at the mention of this "warming charm". "I'm alright. You don't have to do…whatever that is." He insisted.

Severus sighed somewhat in frustration. "It won't hurt you, Harry. It's just a simple spell that keeps a person or thing warm. It's nothing to be afraid of." He said as he rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger.

"I'm not afraid!" Harry exclaimed indignantly.

The potions master gave the child a warning look, "Watch your tone, young man. There is no need to use that tone of voice with me." He said sternly. The boy may have not had a very good childhood, but that was no excuse for him to behave like a delinquent.

The boy bent his head in shame and scuffed his shoes against the wooden floor. "I'm sorry."

Severus nodded, "You're forgiven. Now let us get to Hogwarts." He replied as he headed towards the fire place. "We will be using a magical method of transportation called Flooing." He said as he grabbed the clay pot filled with floo powder. "We simply throw a handful of the floo powder and _clearly _pronounce the destination you wish to go to, and then step into the fire."

The little wizard's eyes widened in fear as he looked between the flames dancing in the fireplace and the small jar in the professor's hand. "We're going to step into fire?" he asked fearfully.

Again the professor sighed in frustration. "Yes, but if it is done correctly, it is perfectly safe. We'll be going together so you must hang onto me tightly." _"Even though I sincerely wish he would not touch me, it is a necessary evil." _Severus thought after explaining the last bit to the boy. Without another word, the potions master motioned the boy to come closer. Harry did reluctantly as he watched the older wizard throw a handful of floo powder into the fireplace, making it turn green. "Hogwarts, Headmaster Dumbldore's Office." He said clearly. Hesitantly, the boy grabbed Severus's arm and stepped into the fireplace with him.  
Harry felt like he was spinning at top speed before he was spit out into another fireplace with Professor Snape. He would've fallen right onto his face if he hadn't had such a strong grip on Severus's arm.

If the professor didn't have such a high pain tolerance, he would've winced at the tight grip the boy had on his arm. Harry looked a little shaken from the ride, but the boy needed to learn to get used to such modes of transportation. He'd be using them for the rest of his life and if all went well with Dumbledore, he'd get used to them rather fast if he was living with a wizarding family.

Harry looked around the large, circular office in wonder. Everything was like the polar opposite of the Dursley's "normal" house. Strange trinkets surrounded the room on dozens of shelves and hundreds of books were shelved right beside them. A large desk stood at the back of the room in front of a large window that overlooked the castle grounds. Everything was covered in bright colors such as gold, red, bronze, silver, and so many other colors. The boy thought his relatives would have heart attacks if they saw this room. It was the coolest place he'd ever seen.

An old man with long white hair and an even longer white beard stood behind the desk. A pair of half-moon glasses sat upon his crooked nose as he stared at the professor and the little wizard that was partially hiding behind the professor. The old man looked relieved to see the child, but something in his eyes seemed rather…sad. "Hello, Severus and young Harry I presume." He said.

Severus placed his hand on the boy's shoulder and gently nudged him to come out from his hiding place behind the potions master. "It's alright, child. This is Headmaster Dumbledore."

Harry stayed stuck to the professor's side like glue, but he did respond to the headmaster, knowing it was rude to do otherwise. "Hello, sir." He said softly

Dumbledore smiled, "It's good to see that you are alright, dear boy. Many people were very worried when you ran away…especially your relatives."

Severus cringed when he saw the fury erupted in the child's eyes. The boy clearly inherited his mother's temper…and unfortunately for the Headmaster, it was about to be unleashed on him. "They were not! The only reason they cared that I left was because they didn't have someone to do all the housework! I ran away because of THEM and I'm not going back! I don't care what you say!" Harry yelled at the top of his lungs before turning to run towards the door.

However, Severus saw this coming so he grabbed the boys shoulders and bent down to be eye-level with the child. "Enough, Mr. Potter. I told you multiple times that you would NOT be returning to those people." He told the boy sternly.

"But Severus…" the Headmaster began.

"No, Professor. There's more going on than you know about." The potions master interrupted.

Dumbledore paused for a minute as he watched the interaction between the boy and the young man. Severus Snape was generally not a gentle man and he certainly wasn't that fond of children, but the way he talked to this child…you'd think it was a completely different man. He was actually patient with the boy and was even able to calm him down after his little outburst. How could this possibly be the same man who couldn't stand even the idea of being in the same room with James Potter's son?

Harry was still struggling against the potions master's hold, "I'm not going back. I'll run away again and I'll go somewhere no can ever find me and I'll never, ever come back." He growled as he continued to fight the professor's hold on him.

"Harry" Severus said as he shook the boy a little to get his attention. "Calm. Down. Now. You will not be returned to your relatives. Did I not swear to you that you'd never be placed under their care again?" Harry nodded and stopped struggling. "Now, will you stay calm as I explain the situation to the Headmaster?"

"Alright" the boy muttered.

Severus nodded as he stood back up to face Dumbledore. Dumbledore nodded towards the sofa in front of his desk before sitting down in large, throne-like chair. The potions master led the boy to the sofa and sat down, motioning for the boy to do the same. When the child was seated and quiet, Severus turned to the headmaster and began to explain what Harry had told him. He told him about the years of neglect that involved living in a cupboard under the stairs, being denied food, and proper clothing as well. The twinkle in the Headmaster's eyes swiftly vanished when Severus started talking about the Dursley's form of 'discipline' for the child. By the time he was done explaining what had happened to the boy, Dumbledore was leaning far back into his chair was a devastated look on his face.

"You're quite right, Severus. Harry must not go back." Dumbledore sighed, "I've made a terrible mistake and its cost was too great." He then turned his attention to Harry who was staring up at him with a look that was a mixture of fear, anger, and sadness. "I'm so sorry, my boy. It's all my fault you were placed in that home. I feel terrible that I never checked up on you. It was very wrong of me and I promise you this now, dear child. You will never return to your relatives." He said, meaning every single word that came from his mouth. He should've listened to Minerva all those years ago.

Harry stared right into the Headmasters eyes as he asked, "Do you swear I'll never have to go back?"

Dumbledore nodded, "No matter what form of protection you may have with your aunt, I cannot in good conscious leave you with them." He replied.

The boy raised his eyebrow at the headmaster's reply, "Protections? What sort of protections could my aunt give me? The only thing she could do if someone attacked her was hit them with a frying pan." He said.

When Dumbledore looked up at Severus after he heard the boy's question, the potions master shook his head, "We haven't quite gotten to that part yet, Headmaster." He said.

The old man nodded, "Understandable. There has been a lot to explain, but I believe now would be the opportune moment to go over that bit with the boy." He responded, giving Severus a pointed look as if to say 'you'll of course be the one to tell the boy the truth about his parents' death'.

Severus sighed before turning to the boy, "Harry" he started, "You remember that I told you that your aunt lied about your parents, correct?"

Harry nodded, "So if they didn't die in a car crash…what happened to them?" he asked, his sad green eyes looking up at the professor.

Again, Severus wasn't one to give comfort to anyone especially children, but these were…abnormal circumstances. So he placed his hand on the boy's shoulder before he began to tell the horrible story that made this small child an orphan. "Ten years ago there was an evil wizard known as Lord Voldemort," Here he flinched as he said the name, thinking of those dark times, "that started a war. The headmaster put together a group of people to fight against him. You're parents were in this group and fought this evil wizard and his followers. One night, Halloween 1981, the evil wizard came to your house. Your parents were too much of a threat to him so he came to kill them." Severus paused to see how the boy was taking this news so far.

The young wizard was very solemn as he listened to the professor's re-telling of the night the Potter's died. Harry knew he needed to hear the truth about his parents, but…hearing the story of their deaths was painful. Yes, he hadn't really known them, but they were his parents. They brought him into this world and cared for him for his first year of life. Deep down, he always knew they loved him no matter his aunt and uncle told him. Whenever he thought of his mother, he thought he remembered a glimpse of red hair and a soft lullaby, but then the glimpse of her was followed by a green light and a cruel laugh. Harry shivered as he remembered the nightmare that had been plaguing him for as long as he could remember. The boy wondered if this nightmare was a memory from the night…it happened. "What happened that night?" he softly asked, staring up at the professor with his wide green eyes.

The potions master took a deep breath before he continued. Remembering the death of his once best friend wasn't easy for him either, but Lily's son needed to know the sacrifice she made for him. "He thought your family was too powerful and he never leaves anyone alive…so when he tried to kill you, your mother stepped in front of you and stopped the curse that the Dark Lord meant to kill you with. When he tried to cast the Killing Curse at you again, it reverberated off of you and hit Voldemort instead, leaving nothing but a pile of robes behind. You survived this curse because your mother sacrificed her own life for yours. Her love created a shield around you and stopped the curse."

The child's hand flew up to his scar as he thought about the green light and the cruel laughter that replaced his mother's red hair and her lullaby. Hearing that a monster from his nightmare was actually real wasn't really a comforting thought. "So…is he gone?" the boy asked.

Severus looked up at the headmaster with questioning eyes, wondering whether he would explain that conundrum to the boy. Dumbledore nodded and answered the child, "In a manner of speaking. That night, your mother's sacrifice made it so that you temporarily banished Voldemort. He is gone, but he can return."

Severus sneered at the headmaster to show his displeasure at the way he worded that. Harry was already frightened enough to hear about his parents' death and now the headmaster just has to add on the fact that Voldemort may one day return. Yes, the boy needed to know the truth and that he certainly didn't needed to be kept in ignorance of the truth, but Severus was not happy about putting all of this information on this child in one setting. He'd already been through far more than any normal child could endure so even he, Professor Severus Snape, the meanest teacher in Hogwarts and arch nemesis of James Potter, thought the boy deserved a break.

"If he does come back, it won't be for a while at least." The potions professor added.

Dumbledore nodded, "Professor Snape is right, Harry." He said as he stood up from behind his desk and walked over to the boy. He then placed his hand on the child's shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly, "I know this is a lot to take in, my boy. If you have any questions, feel free to ask them at any time."

Harry shook his head. He was exhausted and his brain hurt from all the new information it was trying to process. It was all so overwhelming and the poor boy was so tired and so hungry. His stomach decided to make its troubles loud and clear by growling like a wild animal. The boy looked down at his feet in shame while the headmaster chuckled.

"Well my dear boy, I think a visit down to the kitchen is in order." Dumbledore remarked as he looked pointedly at the potions master.

Severus rolled his eyes, but nodded. "Come Harry. We can't have your stomach nearly screaming in protest at its lack of nourishment."

Harry didn't say a word as he slowly followed the professor out of the office and down to the kitchens. The poor boy's head was so full of the new information about his parents and the truth of their deaths that he didn't even notice that Professor Snape had stopped in front of a portrait of a bowl of fruit. Of course Harry did notice this when he bumped into the professor. The child expected the man to yell at him, but Severus just rolled his eyes and said, "Pay attention to where you are walking, child. Next time it might be a wall."

The boy nodded in understanding as the potions master turned back towards the portrait and tickled the pear. Harry watched in fascination as the portrait swung open like a door. Inside was the largest kitchen he had ever seen. Huge, golden pots and pans were everywhere. Multiple stoves had steaming pots on them that were wafting wonderful smells into the air. His mouth began watering as he sniffed the air from the kitchen.

"Oh, Master Severus!" a voice squeaked. Harry looked down and saw a strange, short creature with pointy ears and huge eyes.

The boy started backing away, but Severus put his hand on his shoulder to keep him from running off. "Calm down, child. It's just a house elf. They work here in the kitchens and they clean the castle. They're harmless if a little to obsessed with their jobs." He said.

The little house elf didn't even hear the last bit of Severus comment. He was too busy bouncing up and down on his feet. "Yes, little master, wes house elves take care of all wizards and witches in the castle. Is little master needing something? Does little master want something to eat?"

Harry stared at the little elf in surprise without saying anything. He didn't even move till Severus began guiding him to a table off in the corner of the kitchen. Before he knew it, more house elves were running around the kitchen gathering food just for him and Snape. A large plate full of food was placed in front of him. Harry just sat there with widened eyes for a while. He'd never seen so much food in his life nor had he ever smelt something so good. _"Dudley would die if he saw all this food." _He thought as he picked up a fork. At first, he only took small bites, but then his stomach demanded more and before he knew it he was shoveling food into this mouth.

Severus watched the boy as his pace sped up. With a stomach that hadn't processed very much food in quite a while, the boy was in for a rough night if he didn't slow down. "Harry, if you don't slow down, you will get extremely sick later tonight."

The boy instantly stopped eating and put his fork down. "I'm sorry, sir." He mumbled as he looked down at his feet.

The professor sighed, "There's nothing to be sorry for. I just see no need for you to make yourself sick. Understand?" Harry nodded as he picked up his fork again and slowly ate a bit more mash potatoes. "Good," Severus said, "When you are finished, we'll be going down to my rooms where you'll rest for a little while. I highly doubt you've been sleeping well as of late."

Harry nodded in understanding, "Where will I go tomorrow?" he asked.

Severus sighed, "We'll work that out tomorrow, but it's no use worrying about it. The headmaster and I will find somewhere more permanent for you later and like I said earlier, it will NOT be with your aunt and uncle." He replied.

Harry smiled softly, "Thank you, sir."

"Think nothing of it, Mr. Potter." The potions master responded. _"I owe it to your mother." _He thought as he turned his attention back to his food.

**Author's Notes: Well, say thank you to the snow day because that was the reason I was able to finish this. Blew of going over math homework for it too. Hope you like it. Reviews are lovely and the ones I've been getting have been AWESOME! Thank you all so much.**


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